When he faced Spurlock, the granite was cracked and rived; never had Spurlock seen such dumb agony in human eyes. He never finished his sentence. . "Where are you going?" cried Thames, who, though wholly disencumbered, was scarcely able to keep up with him. Even the abstract paintings on the wall were gray. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like.
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